Knowing the Real
by Digital Artists
Summary: Another lovepotion goes wrong fic. Not interested, we hear you say? Ah, but what if the love potion didn't work, but then did, but didn't? Confused? Then why not take a look! Harry x Draco
1. Chapter 1

MG: Yoohoo! Hey there, we are the Digital Artists, the author with two bodies! This is our very first HP fanfic so we need advice! And reviews, too! And now, to my co-writer . . .

LD: 'our'? 'our' she says. I have actually started a humorous Harry Potter fanfiction . But yeah, I guess this is our first serious one (grins) oh how I'll enjoy this one…

xXx

"And what does Harry Potter want Dobby to do with it?"

"Dobby!" Harry sighed for the fifth time in exasperation, causing the little House Elf to cringe in the knowledge that he'd upset his idol and saviour.

"C'mon, Harry. We can always find another way to give it to him," Ron interjected.

"Nooo! But Dobby wants to help! Really, really! Please let Dobby help!" The scrawny creature began to jump up and down in synch with its protests but went ignored by the two Gryffindors, who began to discuss other methods of dispatching their evil plan.

"We could really use Hermione for this," muttered Ron, "I mean it's great we've got so far on our own but it would have been a hell of a lot easier with her help."

Harry started to nod but changed his mind half way through so it became a strange lopsided shake.

"You know what she's like when it comes to the House Elves, Ron. Besides, she'd probably tell us what we're doing isn't 'right'."

"Never been anything more 'right' than this, in my opinion."

By this time Dobby had found a stool. Dobby had also found a piece of paper. Dobby had rolled this paper into a cone. Dobby was taking a deep, deep breath.

"DOBBY KNOWS HOW TO HELP! DOBBY CAN SNEAK IT INTO THE KITCHENS!"

The two Gryffindors turned to each other. They grinned.

xXx

Dobby muttered to himself as he entered the Hogwarts kitchens. The house elves were so busy running around trying to prepare everything for the meals that very few noticed him.

"Must do this for Harry Potter, must make it right for Harry Potter," he muttered as he waited by a large table. A few seconds passed and piles of toast appeared on the table, some slices half eaten and some plates holding only crumbs.

"Dobby must find toast and place it in potion . . ." Dobby continued muttering as he rummaged around the piles of toast.

"Harry Potter's toast!" He picked up a half eaten piece of toast, knowing it was Harry's, being the Harry Potter fanatic he is. He thought for a while. "Should I use Harry Potter's toast? Or did he want me to use someone else's toast?" Dobby started to worry, nervously twisting his apron in one of his spindly hands. A sudden thought of salvation struck, "Harry Potter's toast will make the potion better!" and with that Dobby dropped the toast into the potion.

"Now Dobby must find Mr Malfoy's drink . . ." Dobby scuttled off to the line of drinks to find the exact glass of pumpkin juice that would be taken to the Slytherin table and placed in front of Draco Malfoy.

He located it with considerable ease, able to smell the stench of Malfoy snobbishness from three feet away, even though the glass was yet to find Draco's lips. After a quick glance behind him, to his sides, and, for some reason known only to him, the ceiling, he upended the small vial of milky liquid into the pumpkin juice, a few crumbs floating to the surface before deciding that they'd rather sink to the bottom.

Dobby nodded to himself in satisfaction. He had helped Harry Potter. Now Harry Potter would be very pleased with him. Harry Potter might even give him a medal. He skipped off happily to take his position up by the bowls of cereal, humming while he sorted the owl shaped WizardKrispies from the newt shaped WizardKrispies.

xXx

Hermione was suspicious. She tended to be suspicious a lot of the time, due to the fact that she knew too much. She was suspicious when Professor McGonagall said "This is a very simple spell . . ." because she knew very few transfiguration spells were simple. She was suspicious when Dumbledore said "I have a very special treat for you . . ." because she knew Dumbledore usually gave hidden meaning to his 'treats' and often a lesson was involved. And she was suspicious when Ron and Harry said "We haven't done anything, Hermione. Honestly . . ." because she knew what a pair of idiots they were.

She sighed as she reached for one of the bowls of cereal that appeared along the length of the table. Although Harry and Ron obviously thought they were acting innocent it was clear that they were waiting for something. Something at the Slytherin table, if their frequent glances in that direction were anything to judge by.

"I hope Dobby did the job . . ." Ron murmured quietly so Hermione couldn't listen in.

"I think he has done," Harry said turning his gaze back from the Slytherin table and at his bowl of cereal while avoiding Hermione's gaze.

"Are you sure? I mean, he did seem a bit . . ." Ron made a gesture that implied a sense of insanity.

Harry chuckled at his red haired friend. "I think he's done fine, Dobby will do anything," Harry replied quietly, thinking of how Dobby rushed off to do his bidding, and then an image of a very angry Hermione appeared shouting things about House Elf rights. Harry sighed.

Moments passed and the unfinished and finished bowls of cereal disappeared from the tables to be replaced by drinks and croissants.

"This is it Harry . . ." Ron couldn't help but grin and his glances over at the Slytherin table grew more frequent.

Harry smirked. "I just hope Dobby chose something from the Hufflepuff table to put in it."

Ron snorted, "Yeah, Mr Up-Himself wouldn't be able to stand the thought of being with a Hufflepuff. He'd probably have to bathe in acid afterwards!"

Harry couldn't help but laugh at Ron's comment, and found himself looking over at the Slytherin table, not even bothering to turn away even though he could feel Hermione's curious and oh so suspicious gaze stabbing into the back of his head.

He nudged Ron as he saw Malfoy pick up his drink. Hermione followed their gaze to where the Slytherin was taking a large gulp of pumpkin juice. He choked a little as the liquid made its way down his throat. He made a face. He turned a very elegant shade of green. He threw up.

Amidst the laughter caused by Malfoy's sudden affliction Hermione noticed the expressions of her two best friends.

"What did you do to his drink?" she demanded sternly, folding her arms for effect.

"He wasn't meant to spew it up," Ron moaned. Harry just rolled his eyes and shrugged at Hermione. At the glare she sent him he cringed.

"So maybe we spiked it a little . . ." the glare continued, ". . . with a bit of homemade love potion. But it doesn't matter," he added on quickly, "because he threw it up so it won't work. And besides, you've got to admit it was funny seeing Malfoy throw up on Pansy Parkinson."

Against her will, Hermione grinned, but then shook her head disapprovingly.

"I'm still very disappointed in you two," she said, actually making them both avert their eyes in a semblance of shame, "If you had included me it would have worked properly."

After a moment's silence:

"I told you so," Ron told Harry, smugly.


	2. Chapter 2

MG: Waaay! We finally have an update!

LD: Ano, sorries it's short! XD you all should know why!

xXx

Breakfast had not been good. He had not enjoyed it one little bit. He had especially not enjoyed the part where his stomach contents had decided to come up to say hello.

Draco groaned and leant more of his weight against the wall. He'd made a swift exit from the Great Hall after the 'incident' and was now heading back to his common room under the pretence that he was going to see Madam Pomfrey. Though at the moment he _was_ considering a real trip to the hospital wing, however much he didn't want to go there.

The queasiness intensified and he choked back a guttural sob that threatened to escape. Merlin's beard, he must look pathetic.

Draco finally made it back to the Slytherin common room, almost expecting to be greeted yet again by the contents of his stomach, but luckily managed to keep it down, that is, until he just managed to run into the bathroom.

"That . . . drink . . ." Draco cringed over the toilet seat. Yes; he knew what had caused it, sort of. After taking a few sips of his drink, that was when he started to feel oh so very nauseous, but why? "Damn house elves . . . They should check those drinks before serving them . . . I'll make sure they-" Draco's rant was cut short when his face had to occupy the toilet once again.

So now what should he do? Go to his morning lessons and try to bear with it? That should be alright, seeing as the ill feeling was starting to recede. But then again, he reflected, maybe he should just stay where he was. The rest of the school had seen him throw up, no doubt finding it immensely funny. And the Golden Trio would definitely have enjoyed the spectacle; Draco scowled at that thought.

That decided it then. As a Malfoy he could not allow such an event to shame his family, and so he refused to give Potter the satisfaction of mocking him for hiding from the school, like a coward.

He stood in up in one swift motion (if a little unstable) and made his way out of the Slytherin common room.

A few minutes later he was sauntering into his Potions classroom, late due to his excursion after breakfast. Snape, however, barely gave him a passing glance, which he noted gleefully caused scowls to jump onto the Gryffindors' faces.

"Right now, class," Snape drawled as he strode to front of the classroom glaring at a few chattering students, threatening them into silence.

"Most of you will be happy to know that I shall not be asking you to perform a practical today, so you will not be making a potion for once, not that any of you would actually succeed in making one. No, today you will all write an essay on how to correctly make . . ." Snape's words were lost to the un-listening crowd of blank faces, as most started to block out Snape, except for one Miss Granger, who gladly listened. But even Draco stopped listening to his favourite teacher's explanations, too intent on finding out what on earth had happened to his drink, too deep in his thoughts to notice the Golden Trio's glances thrown his way or Harry's and Ron's snickering.

_It could have just been clumsiness on the part of the house elves, putting something sickly into the potion by accident, _he mused._ But then, why was I the only one affected? If something was wrong with the juice it should have made everyone who drank it this morning throw up. So that probably means-_

He flinched when a folded piece of paper appeared inexplicably on his desk, and then mentally kicked himself for reacting. Carefully, but not noticeably so, he opened the note.

_Oh, Hell . . . _The note was from Pansy. The boy sighed and glanced over at the girl who just gestured for him to read it. Draco rolled his eyes at her and began to read the note.

'_Draco,_

_Are you ok? I hope you are! I forgive you for what happened at lunch, it wasn't your fault, but I bet it was the Boy-Who-Won't-Die that did that to you! All of the Gryffindorks around him were laughing when it happened! If I were you I'd go and face that no good piece of filth once and for all!_

_Pansy'_

Draco cringed by the time he had finished reading the note. He cast a small spell that made it burn to a crisp while Snape was busy scanning the Gryffindor side of the room. He didn't bother to glance at Pansy, knowing the look of shock on her face at seeing her note being burnt. This thought pleased him.

Although the thought of the Potter boy and his friends being the ones to contaminate his drink was very believable. _It must have been him . . . _Draco thought darkly while glancing at Harry. He caught the dark haired boy looking at him so shot back a glare, and in return just received a smirk as the Gryffindor returned to pretending to listen to Snape. _I'll get back at him . . . _Draco sneered and started to write notes for the class.

By the time the class was grudgingly dismissed, Draco had the perfect plan. Pansy was right. He_ should_ teach Potter a lesson. And he knew just how to do it.

He hummed under his breath as he left the dungeons, flanked by Crabbe and Goyle as usual. Now, would it be best to make it a private affair? Or public? He grinned. It wasn't vengeance unless everyone knew about it. So he'd start it at lunch. Good. He had the rest of the morning to prepare, then.


End file.
